In the Long Run

2. Reading books or magazines

3. Wrestling with a child seated in the back

4. Talking on a cell phone

5. Looking at a map

6. Changing clothes

7. Flossing teeth

I shamefacedly admit I’ve done all these things while driving my car. I know that these behaviors are risky and unwise. Yet at the time, they seemed so necessary or excusable given the circumstances.

I just returned home from a trip that required a nine-hour drive each way. I’m happy to report that during my journey I was guilty of only one of the previously mentioned peccadilloes—talking on my cell phone—and surely it was a harmless offense, since the calls were very, very short. But I have a new behavior to add to the list of driving no-noes: manually rewinding a tangled cassette tape.

I’m quite patient and capable in enduring long runs, but long drives make me crazy. And on this long drive, I was all alone. I thought I’d pass the time by listening to books on tape, so I had borrowed several titles from the library. One of the unabridged books contained about 12 tapes, and I chose it because I thought it sounded interesting, and I thought it would last me through the entire trip.

However, I had only listened to one tape, about an hour’s worth, before I ran into trouble. I had just slipped the second tape into the recorder and pressed play. I heard a clicking sound, but the tape didn’t advance. I ejected it, shook it, and reinserted it. Click, click, click, and the recorder shut off. I tried to rewind, and then fast forward, but no luck. I became frustrated.

I wanted to continue listening to that book. How would I ever know what happened to the poor orphan boy who had already been placed in three foster homes with unfortunate results? I would make that tape work. I held down the play button forcefully, and heard the familiar clicking as well as a new, crackling noise. It did not sound good.

I tried to eject the cassette, and discovered that not only was the tape a loopy tangle in the recorder mechanism, but it was also a snarled jumble in the cassette casing itself. Undaunted, I delicately tugged and twisted the tape until I extricated it, unbroken, from the tape recorder. Now I had several yards of mangled magnetic tape on my lap.

Mind you, I was still flying at 70 mph down a two-lane undivided state highway, dubbed the Highway of Death because of the frequency of accidents on that road. Common sense dictated that I abandon that book and start listening to a totally different book on tape. I am uncommonly stubborn. I held the cassette in my left hand which also steadied the steering wheel, and used a pen with my right hand to begin rewinding the tape.

It was a slow, tedious process, but I managed to wind all the tape back into the cassette. But when I tried to play it, I still heard no audio, just clicking. I examined the tape again. It looked like some of the tape might not be lying entirely flat in the cassette. I pulled out a few yards of tape again, determined to wind it back in flat.

I paused for a moment, and noted a sign off the road to my right that marked the exit to a historical site. I was shocked. If I were now at Martin’s Cove, then I had passed Independence Rock, a very large, prominent landmark just off the highway and visible from some distance away, an improved area with ample parking and restrooms. I had not noticed Independence Rock at all, and I realized I was paying not nearly enough attention to the road. I promptly stuffed the damaged tape into a bag, vowed to fix it later, and chose a new book on tape. Persistence is important, but in the long drive, safety should be paramount.

Posted by Cyppy at 1:59 PM